


Little Girl Lost

by Crunchysunrises



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Family, Community: fic_promptly, Community: hc_bingo, Community: journeystory, Community: kink_bingo, Community: trope_bingo, Community: tth100, Crossover, Family, Gen, Humor, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Road Trips, Sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crunchysunrises/pseuds/Crunchysunrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uncle Phil may not be happy to find them in his (really weird) New York townhouse, but they have nowhere else to go. And they know where he keeps his (disturbingly extensive) Captain America collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Girl Lost

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Little Girl Lost  
>  **Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Marvel Cinematic Universe  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Content Notes:** None  
>  **Disclaimer:** I have no rights to or within the Buffy or Marvel franchises, copyrights, characters or trademarks. This is for fun, not profit.  
>  **Summary:** Uncle Phil may not be happy to find them in his (really weird) New York townhouse, but they have nowhere else to go. And they know where he keeps his (disturbingly extensive) Captain America collection.  
>  **Additional Notes:** Fulfills the “plushie or furry kink” square of my Kink Bingo card, the "disappearing" square of my Hurt/Comfort Bingo card, the "road trip" square of my Trope Bingo card, and the (063) "Fast Food" prompt on TTH_2 table. Also fulfills the "BtVS, Buffy and Dawn, sister act" from fic_promptly.

The night that Buffy runs away for the second time (and Mom finds out Buffy's secret for the third time), Dawn sits at the head of the stairs and listens to them fight and cries. Mom never notices (the important things.) Buffy, who almost always knows when Dawn is eavesdropping or crying, is too upset to notice this time, and Buffy's friend, the vampire, shakes away his _grrr_ face and aims a quick smile at Dawn.

Dawn cries harder, little hitching sobs that she cannot stop. She covers her mouth with her arm and thinks, _You don't understand. Everything's falling apart. Again._

"If you go out that door, Buffy, then don't come back."

Through her tears, Dawn watches Buffy leave without a backwards glance, not even for Dawn. The vampire leaves with her. He _does_ look back, at Dawn and Mom, and Dawn hates him a little for that. Buffy slams the door behind them.

Mom does not spare a glance for Dawn, either. She goes straight for the liquor cabinet and drinks right out of the decanter. Dawn retreats to her bedroom and then into her bedroom closet. Safe in the closeness and darkness, Dawn cries herself to sleep.

When she wakes up, it is still close but the dark is no longer perfect. It is pierced and diffused by strips of sunlight through the closet's slats. The scent of Buffy's perfume lingers in the air and someone _(Buffy!)_ has covered Dawn up, tucked a pillow under Dawn's head, and put Mr. Gordo into Dawn's arms.

Delighted, Dawn kicks herself free of the blankets and struggles out of her closet. She runs down the hallway, excitement pounding through her like her bare feet against the floorboards, and slams open Buffy's door, shouting, "Buffy!"

Buffy's room is a disaster. Mom is sitting on Buffy's stripped bed, pale and hollow-eyed. She winces at Dawn's noise, just like before the divorce, and shakes her head then winces. Mom croaks, "She's gone."

"No," Dawn says, shaking her head and stumbling backwards, away from her mother. "No. No! No!"

She runs away again, back to her closet where Buffy's perfume still lingers and Buffy's stuffed pig lays among her tangled blankets. Hugging Mr. Gordo, Dawn cries until her eyes are sore and her nose is clogged. When she is too tired to cry anymore, she says, "Buffy will come back."

The semi-darkness is flat and stifling, killing her words as they are born. Dawn hugs the stuffed animal closer and says, "She will. She promised to always come back for me. And - And she has to come back for you, Mr. Gordo."

Eventually, Dawn falls asleep. When she wakes up, she lays in bed, thinking about Buffy. Eventually, Dawn gets up to wash her face. She takes Mr. Gordo with her.

That afternoon, while Mom quietly drinks in the living room, Dawn tries to clean Buffy's room for her. Buffy hates it when her room is a mess. She puts the clothes on the floor in the dirty hamper, tapes the posters onto the wall again, and tries to make the bed with blue sheets and faded pink blankets from the linen closet. The posters are crooked, the bed smells like clean linens (instead of Buffy), and Dawn is disappointed to discover that even though she must have left in a hurry, Buffy remembered to lock her weapons chest.

Dawn plays with Buffy's polishes and make-ups instead.

When she gets tired of that, Dawn cleans up her mess, washes her faces, and goes downstairs. Mom is asleep and snoring on the couch so Dawn makes herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and carefully pours herself a glass of juice. She eats in the kitchen then goes upstairs to read in her room.

When she goes to bed that night, Dawn curls up in her nest of pillows and blankets in her closet. The darkness is silent (like when Buffy is in it) but empty, (which is nothing like when Buffy is in it.) It seems lonely. Dawn drags her bedding and Mr. Gordo down the hallway to Buffy's bedroom. She piles all of Buffy's shoes near the dresser, arranges her pallet inside of Buffy's closet, and adds all of Buffy's pillows to it. When she closes the door, the closet's darkness smells like Buffy.

Dawn sleeps in Buffy's closet every night until the night that Buffy comes back.

On Monday, Dawn gets up, dresses, and is halfway down the stairs when she hears her mother hiss, "Don't you dare hang up on me! She's your daughter too, Hank!" Dawn frowns, hating that their parents are trying to push Buffy off on each other again. The last time that had happened, Buffy had ended up in a mental institution. She creeps the rest of the way down the stairs, taking care to skip over the creaky step. Another pause and then, "Not from my side of the family, she doesn't! Dawn's mine. Buffy was _always_ Daddy's Little Girl!"

Furious, Dawn tiptoes upstairs and then comes down them again, taking care to stomp her feet and jump twice on each step to herald her arrival. By the time that Dawn gets to the kitchen, her mother is off of the telephone and scrambling eggs like it is any other morning, except there are too few eggs in the skillet for it to be any other morning. Buffy eats more than she and their mother do, combined. The mayo and anchovies are already out on the table.

"What're you doing with Mr. Gordo?" Mom asks. She is too pale in the light coming in from the window over the sink.

"Nothing," Dawn lies. "I'll be right back."

She goes and stuffs Mr. Gordo into her backpack. Dawn is too old to be taking stuffed animals around with her (and if anyone sees Mr. Gordo, Dawn knows that she is going to get grief for it) but if she leaves Mr. Gordo somewhere, Buffy might come back for him and leave again without Dawn ever seeing her. The idea of missing Buffy is way worse than the idea of being made fun of by Pam Brocklehurst.

Dawn eats a quiet breakfast with her mom and then goes to catch the bus. It is like most other days except there is no Buffy to keep the forces of evil at bay. Dawn keeps a close eye on the shadows (and everyone's teeth), just in case.

But, after two days of nothing strange happening and no one's name being added to her school's obituary column, Dawn figures that Buffy must have killed every creepy crawlie in town, or at least scared the bejesus out of them, before she left. There is a certain, awful comfort in that. Even if Buffy is away, she is still keeping Dawn safe. Sunnydale is still safe eight days after Buffy leaves, when school lets out for the summer. Dawn celebrates the first day of summer break by going through Buffy's things.

"It's her own fault," Dawn tells Mr. Gordo. His beady black eyes seem very judgmental. "She should be here to yell at me if she doesn't want me to go through her things."

Dawn can tell that Mr. Gordo does not agree.

_Too bad,_ she thinks as she rifles through one of Buffy's drawers. It is only half full and, disappointingly, only has clothes in it. _You're stuffed, Mr. Gordo. Stop me if you can._

Before Sunnydale, Dawn might have said something like that aloud to the stuffed pig. But now that she has lived in Sunnydale for two years (and there is no Buffy at home to protect her) Dawn is careful about what she says. Buffy would never forgive her if Dawn got herself eaten while Buffy was away.

One afternoon, Dawn comes home from Janice's house to the sounds of her mother arguing with someone. The sound of her mother's angry voice, high and sharp and shrill around the edges, is familiar. The other voice is too low for Dawn to hear in the kitchen. Whoever it is, that person is not a shouter.

_Not Buffy,_ Dawn thinks with disappointment as she slips her flip-flops off. She leaves them near the back door and tiptoes through the kitchen, her backpack in her arms. No way is she letting Mr. Gordo out of her sight. A quick peek into the sitting room reveals no adults so Dawn creeps across it and over to the doorway into the living room. When she peeks around that doorjamb, Dawn sees her mom, her hair tousled and her eyes flashing, yelling at Buffy's new Watcher, Mr. Giles. He is rumpled and even paler than her mom. A crisp white bandage peeks over the collar of his shirt, silent evidence that something bit him. Buffy probably killed it.

_Jackpot!_ Dawn thinks as she ducks back into the sitting room. The adults must not have noticed her because they keep arguing, her mom shouting and Mr. Giles saying sharp things in quiet, precise tones. Dawn misses Buffy, who would have noticed that she was home when she was still on the porch.

"You must have some idea where she went!" he insists. "Joyce, she's _your daughter!_ You know her better than anyone!"

"I don't know her at all," Mom says bitterly. It hurts Dawn's heart. "I was the last to know about her - her Slayer thing. I didn't want to. And I don't want to."

"Joyce! She cannot stop being the Slayer!" Mr. Giles snaps. He sounds angry. "It's not something she _does_ or some _part_ of her. The Slayer is what Buffy _is!_ You have to accept that! And you have to help me find her!"

"I don't know where she is! I don't know where she'd go! I don't know anything!"

"She'd go to Los Angeles," Dawn blurts because it is _so obvious_. How can they not _know_ that? Then she claps her hands over her mouth because she is _so_ busted. Her bag lands on her foot a moment later, a soft weight against the toe of her shoe.

The adults in the living room go ominously silent.

"Dawn?" asks her mom.

"Yes," Dawn sighs. She scoops up her book bag, using the shoulder straps as handles, and slinks into the living room. Mr. Giles is staring at the door when she sloops through it. Her mother is at the sideboard, pouring herself a drink from the crystal decanter.

"Los Angeles?" Mr. Giles asks instead of chastising her for eavesdropping. "To see your father?"

"Dad?" Dawn asks, bewildered. "Why would Buffy want to go see him? He's in Spain with Miss O'Fogerty."

Mr. Giles' mouth tightens like when he wants to yell at Xander but all he says is, "Why would Buffy be in Los Angeles then?"

"Because it's her old slaying territory," Dawn says, wondering if Giles has read any of the Slayer books. _Or maybe he just has different ones than Mr. Merrick had_ , Dawn thinks and adds, "And she likes it there. And haven't you read any Slayer books at all?”

Mr. Merrick was _definitely_ a better Watcher. He knew all the old Slayer stories and, more importantly, he knew Buffy even better than his musty old books. Mr. Merrick would have been able to guess where Buffy had gone all on his own.

In the present, Dawn crosses her arms over her chest and pouts at Mr. Giles, who stares back at her. He looks stunned.

"Of course I have," he snaps, looking appalled. "Who let you read them?"

"Mr. Merrick," Dawn says tartly. "He was a _great_ Watcher."

Now Mr. Giles just looks offended but all he says is, "Yes. Well. I shall concentrate my efforts on Los Angeles. Thank you, Dawn."

"Welcome, Mr. Giles!" Dawn says automatically. She hesitates, her arms tightening on her backpack, and asks, "Will you bring Buffy home?"

Mr. Giles' expression softens. "I shall do my best."

That is the best thing that Dawn has heard since Buffy left.

Dawn goes through Buffy's stuff twice a week that summer, stuffs all of Buffy's shoes under her bed (one gets mutilated by the under-the-bed sword in the process), and reads all of Buffy's old journals, partly to punish Buffy for going away but mostly because Dawn likes going through people's things and seeing their secrets from the inside out. She also goes through all of the photo albums and her mother's things during the day when her mother is at the gallery or at night when she is snoring on the couch, a glass of something on the coffee table next to her.

Dawn discovers that the little black book is gone from her mother's purse, replaced by the silver flask, and finds a half-empty box of condoms in her mother’s nightstand. She also finds a big plastic vodka jug with an easy grip handle in the back right corner of her closet, a box filled with carefully preserved gifts from Dad and family photos from before the divorce, and another box filled with old mementos like stacks of old photographs, unraveling clothes, withered bouquets, and a few pictures of _Ted_.

The condoms are icky but the photographs are interesting. Dawn sifts through them carefully, surprised by how many pictures there are of a very little Buffy because there are almost none of Buffy when she is older, except for in the snapshots of the whole family. In a lot of the pictures of little Buffy, she is with a dark-haired man with thin features and a half-smile. Buffy looks really, really happy in those pictures. He is in none of the later pictures and Buffy rarely looks that happy again in a photo.

_Who is he?_ Dawn thinks and checks the back of each picture of him for his name but none of them are labeled.

Dawn reassembles the boxes, is once again disappointed by the lack of diaries, and steals two pictures: one of Buffy with the mystery man and one of the family photographs from when her parents are still together and Buffy is already the Slayer.

Dawn knows that her mom is trying to hold it together, probably for Dawn herself, but Dawn can see the cracks in her. As the summer days get longer and hotter, the crystal decanter comes to live on the sideboard again. Her mom gets paler and paler, starts wearing sunglasses everywhere, even inside the house, and smells like she is bathing in Listerine.

It makes Dawn angry at Buffy for leaving, at Mom for driving her away, at Buffy for choosing to listen to Mom _this_ time when she _never_ had before, and at Mom for not going to look for Buffy. Mr. Giles may not be as awesome as Mr. Merrick but at least he does _that_ right.

When Dawn finally shouts at her mother (and takes a secret, vicious pleasure in the way that she winces), she goes pale. Her mouth tightens.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin looking," her mom says and Dawn rolls her eyes, hard.

_"In Los Angeles!"_

"There's nothing for her in Los Angeles."

"That's not the point! Buffy's The Slayer! And you hurt her! She'll want to go somewhere safe until she feels better!"

"Dawn..." says her mother tiredly "I don't want to hear that word in this house ever again."

"Or what?" Dawn demands snidely. "Are you going to throw me out too?"

"Dawn Summers!" her mother shouts and Dawn quails just a little bit. She crushes Mr. Gordo to her chest. "Go to your room!"

Dawn stomps upstairs and goes to _Buffy's_ room.

_It's nearly the same thing anyway,_ Dawn thinks as she flops on Buffy's bed.

When Buffy comes home, Dawn is going to be the first to know.

Someone snaps the closet doors open, waking Dawn up. Her first thought is _'Burglars'_ and her second one is _'Vampires!'_

Despite the closet’s darkness, Dawn thrashes her way to her feet, shrieking and clumsily flailing one of Buffy’s crosses at the fangy intruder. She stumbles over Mr. Gordo, her feet tangled in her nest of blankets, and falls against the vampire, who hugs her close. She smells like a Bath and Body Works exploded on her and hugs too tightly just like…

"Buffy!" Dawn squeaks. "You're home!"

Dawn _means_ to yell at Buffy for leaving and letting everything fall apart. Instead, she hugs her, squeezing Buffy as hard as she can.

"I missed you so much! I'm so glad that you're home! You left me! How could you leave me here?" Dawn demands as Buffy hugs her too tightly. Buffy always hugs her too tightly. Dawn savors the feeling. "Everything's so awful! Mom's drinking again and Dad didn't care that you left! And Mr. Giles didn't know where you'd gone so I had to tell him! I'm so glad that he found you! And I've had to order pizza three times this week because Mom was too tired to cook and they brought it after dark and Mr. Gordo--"

"What happened to Mr. Gordo?" Buffy asks sharply, pulling back from Dawn slightly. Her gaze darts past Dawn's shoulder and into the closet. Watching Buffy's face, Dawn knows the exact moment that Buffy finds her perfectly intact, if slightly more worn, stuffed pig.

"You've been dragged him around," Buffy says with a wan smile. "You've never dragged stuffed animals around. That was always my thing."

"I knew you'd be back for him," Dawn says in lieu of admitting how soft and snuggly he feels or how perfectly he fits under her arm. Dawn understands why her big bad Slayer sister would like to cuddle with Mr. Gordo. Dawn thinks that she might be a little, tiny bit lonely after she gives Mr. Gordo back to Buffy.

Buffy's smile widens. She hugs Dawn again, strokes her hair, and listens to Dawn's rambling account of the Worst Summer Ever. When Dawn starts repeating herself, Buffy asks, "Giles looked for me?"

"Yes, of course!" Dawn says impatiently because Buffy is focusing on all the wrong things. "I told him to go to Los Angeles and he promised to do his best to bring you home!"

Buffy smiles a small, but genuinely happy, smile. "Maybe this won't be so bad."

"It's going to be awesome!"

In fact, everything is awful. School starts up again and Dawn goes back to it but Buffy cannot because the principal hates her. The Scoobies hate her. _Mom_ hates her. And Buffy cannot seem to scrape up the fire to yell at them, to shout back, to throw things at them the way that she would if she felt better.

Buffy barely has the energy to tiredly accuse Dawn of mutilating one of her Chanel knockoffs. When Dawn admits to it, Buffy says, "Don't do it again," and leave it at that instead of screaming at Dawn and threatening her with the mutilated shoe.

Dawn hates them all equally, Mom and the Scoobies for hurting Buffy, Mr. Giles for not helping Buffy, and Buffy for letting herself be hurt. She especially hates them when she catches Buffy looking out the nearest window, an expression on her face like she is already halfway out the door again.

_Not without me,_ Dawn thinks grimly, remembering the quiet, empty house and the sounds of Mom's retching and being afraid of the pizza delivery guy, even though he always turned out to be human. _But where would we go? Buffy won't take me with her if we don't have anywhere to go. We only know people here and in L.A. We've never been anywhere else. And everyone we have is here - all our friends and Mom and Mr. Giles. Well, not **everyone** ,_ Dawn temporizes, remembering the mementos and old pictures from her mother's box.

Her first thought is for Aunt Darleen, who is nice enough, but the last time that Dawn stayed with her it was because Buffy was locked away, Mom was in rehab, and Dad wanted to go to Europe with his secretary. Dawn will never, ever go back to Aunt Darleen's house, ever. She mentally sorts through the faces that she can remember from her mother's pictures, trying to think of someone who might take them in. Eventually, she remembers Buffy's Mystery Man.

_Living with him and Buffy is probably better than living alone with either Mom or Dad,_ Dawn decides. _Safer too, probably._

Dawn goes back to sleeping in Buffy's closet and Buffy, who is too tired and unhappy for a lot of things, lets her. Two nights before the Scoobies' stupid surprise party, Dawn wakes up to the sounds of Buffy cursing. She crawls out of her pallet and, from the closet's doorway, watches as her sister packs a black duffle bag.

"Are you leaving again?" Dawn asks and Buffy whirls around looking guilty and desperate.

"Dawnie, I tried but this place isn't really home anymore," Buffy says, looking truly sorry. "I'm just... passing through."

The old words, the ones that she had said before when they had lived in Los Angeles, well up in Dawn and she knows, _knows,_ that if she says them, Buffy would stay with her in Sunnydale. But with the old words comes the old guilt, the old promise that Dawn had made to herself after Buffy came home to Los Angeles for her and was sent away immediately thereafter. Remembering how awful it had been when Buffy was away, Dawn swallows the old words. They light a fire in her belly.

"You just came back for Mr. Gordo!" Dawn accused, stabbing a finger at Buffy's face.

"And to check on you."

"Me? I'm awful! You can't leave me here!"

"Dawnie, I don't even know where I'm going. I just... can't stay here."

"Are we going back to Los Angeles?"

"I gave that place up," Buffy says, looking lost for a moment. Then her expression firms and she says sternly, _"We_ aren't going anywhere."

"So stay here with me and Mom!"

"I gave this place up too, Dawnie."

Dawn chews her lip, remembers her plan, and says, "What about your Mystery Man? We could go live with him!"

"Who?"

Dawn scrambles out of the closet and down the hallway for her stolen photograph of Buffy and the Mystery Man. When she shows it to Buffy, her older sister looks surprised.

"Uncle Phil?" Buffy asks, taking the photograph from Dawn. Looking at it, her expression softens. "Dawnie, you've never even met him."

"But he always remembers to send things on our birthdays and holidays and the anniversary of Mom's divorce," Dawn says enthusiastically, remembering the gifts and warming to the idea. She has never met her Uncle Phil, not in her whole life, but anyone who sends her gifts like that must have some good points. And Dawn knows for a fact that Buffy has kept every gift, card, and note that their uncle has ever sent her. She is pretty sure that Buffy loves their Uncle Phil, like, a lot. "I bet his address is in Mom's address book. And he and Mom aren't that close so even if he won't let us stay, maybe he won't rat on us to Mom."

"He'll rat on us," Buffy says flatly. "It's what adults do."

"Buffy, I can't stay here alone," Dawn pleads. "It's lonely. Mom drinks too much, I slept in your freaking closet all summer, and what if something eats me after you've gone?" Buffy's expression wavers and Dawn can practically taste her victory. "Please, Buffy! Let's just _try_ Uncle Phil! If you leave me behind, I'll be here all alone with the vampires and monsters and demons. And what if Mom decides to date another Ted?"

Buffy's expression sharpens and the corners of her mouth turn down, just like Dawn knew that they would. Buffy has never said it but Dawn knows that Buffy particularly hated Ted.

"Let's go pack your bags," Buffy says. "We'll leave tomorrow, after Mom goes to the gallery."

"Yay!" Dawn squeaks. She hugs Buffy again, hard. "You won't be sorry! I'll be such a big help! I won't be any trouble at all! This is going to be so much fun!"

"Say that after you see the bathroom on a Greyhound," Buffy says wryly even though she hugs Dawn back. "Go put what you want to take on your bed. I'll get a suitcase for you from the garage."

"Okay," Dawn chirps and runs down the hallway to her bedroom. By the time that Buffy joins her, Dawn has heaped nearly everything that she owns onto her bed.

"Dawnie, you can't bring all of that," Buffy says with a helpless little smile.

"Why not? You can carry it! You have Slayer strength!"

"But I can't _look_ like I have Slayer strength," Buffy says as she puts the brown leather suitcase down. "Lesson the First: Blend in. It's harder for them to hunt you if they can't see the difference between you and the Happy Meal on Legs to your right."

"Oh. Okay," Dawn says and nods, even though she _is_ the Happy Meal on Legs to Buffy's right.

They go through Dawn's things, packing some things and putting other things back. Dawn consoles herself with the idea that Uncle Phil will take them and Mom will send all the rest of her stuff later. When her suitcase is packed, Buffy says, "Put your wallet, all your cash, and stuff that you'd like to do on the bus in your backpack."

"Okay!" Dawn says. She already has pens, her CD player, and her wallet in her backpack so Dawn gets her life savings from underneath her mattress and tries to imagine which CDs and books she will want.

Buffy disappears down the hall again.

When Dawn's backpack is packed and ready to go, she puts it on top of her packed suitcase and pads back down the hallway to Buffy's room. Dawn retrieves her nest and Mr. Gordo from her closet and curls up on Buffy's bed. Dawn sleepily watches Buffy try to find and fit all of her weapons into her weapons chest, using towels and blankets from the linen closet as padding between them. Dawn falls asleep before Buffy remembers about the unsheathed sword under the bed, the stake jammed between the wrought iron headboard and the mattress, or the holy water in her bedside table.

Dawn wakes up to Mom rapping on Buffy's door and Buffy's warmth pressed again her back.

"Coming!" Dawn shouts and Buffy grumbles and rolls over.

Dawn struggles out of bed and goes downstairs. Breakfast is quiet since mornings, food scents, and direct sunlight makes her mother ill. When it is time for her mom to leave, Dawn hugs her, hard.

"Bye, Mom," Dawn says, her throat oddly tight and her eyes prickling with tears.  She _wants_ to go with Buffy. This summer has been _awful,_ the worst one ever, no lie. But Dawn will miss her mom.

"I'll see you later, Dawn," her mother says with a tired little laugh and a brief hug. It presses the angle of her sunglasses into Dawn's temple. "Make sure that your sister doesn't make you late to school. And there's leftover pizza in the refrigerator for dinner. Tell Buffy that I'm going to be working late tonight."

Dawn grimaces, because she doubts that her mom will be working and because nighttime in Sunnydale is dangerous, but says, "Okay, Mom. Bye."

Dawn reluctantly lets go and her mother leaves, locking the door behind herself. Dawn staggers back upstairs and crawls back into bed with Buffy. When she is settled, comfortable, and drowsing, Buffy rolls over again. She flings a careless arm across Dawn, snuggles her face against Dawn's shoulder, and goes back to sleep. Smiling, Dawn does too. She is still smiling when Buffy wakes her.

"Shower, write a letter to mom, and put the washing in the dryer," Buffy orders as she lays folded sheets and blankets over her weapons. "I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Dawn croaks, tamping down on her automatic desire to argue, and Buffy leaves, six sealed blue envelopes clutched in one hand. Dawn staggers out of bed and through her morning routine. When she checks, the sword, stake, and half of Buffy's shoe collection are gone but the flask of holy water is still in the bedside table. Dawn adds it to her backpack.

Writing the letter to her mom is the hardest part of the morning. Dawn starts six different letters and throws them all away before she decides to keep it simple.

_Dear Mom,_

_I'm sorry but I want to go with Buffy. And I know that'll hurt you but maybe you'll be happier too. You stopped drinking when Buffy was away and I was with Aunt Darleen. Maybe you could do that again?_

_Anyway, don't worry about Buffy and me. We have a plan. We're going to Uncle Phil's house. And if that doesn't work out, we'll go somewhere else. But don't worry. Buffy'll take care of me. We'll call you when we get there._

_Love, Dawn._

Dawn seals her letter into a blue envelope and goes downstairs to check on the drying. She tapes her letter to the back of the front door, under one of Buffy's, and starts making sandwiches. Dawn uses up all of the bread making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (some of them with olives and potato chips in them), makes hot cocoa, and sneaks a few extra shirts and jeans into Buffy's weapons trunk. (And discovers where the missing shoes and Buffy's old diaries had ended up since they are also in Buffy’s weapons trunk.) Dawn adds the sandwiches, a baggie filled with little marshmallows, and thermos of cocoa to her backpack and stacks it and her favorite pillow next to the front door, leaving the suitcase for Buffy to manage. When Buffy comes home, Dawn is watching television.

"All right," Buffy says as she breezes in through the front door. "I've left all of the Scoobies their notes, I put Giles' letter under his door, and I called Uncle Phil from a pay phone at the bus terminal while I was picking up our tickets."

"Where'd you get the number? What'd he say?" Dawn demands, feeling nervous despite Buffy's good mood.

"From mom's address book and nothing," Buffy says cheerfully. "He wasn't home. But I left a message. That's almost like getting permission."

"Definitely," Dawn agrees, relieved. She turns off the television.

"Let me just get my stuff," Buffy says and goes upstairs. When she comes back down, she has Dawn's suitcase, a half-full black duffle bag, and a bookbag all stacked on top of her weapons trunk. Buffy sets a pot of water to boiling and repacks the load of clean laundry into her duffle bag.

They eat macaroni and cheese for lunch, Buffy makes Dawn put on her warmest coat, and then they leave. Buffy, wearing her duffle bag like a backpack and her bookbag and purse slung over one shoulder, wheels the weapons chest after herself. Dawn, who is wearing her coat and her back pack, locks the front door behind them. Carrying her pillow under one arm and wheeling her suitcase along behind herself, Dawn follows Buffy down the sidewalk.

The walk to the bus terminal is the longest, sweatiest one in Dawn's memory.

In the terminal, Buffy presents their tickets and spins a story about a bitter divorce and going to spend the rest of the year with their father in New York City. Since Buffy has always been a rotten liar, Dawn figures that she must have used it a few times before.

They stowed the trunk, the suitcase, and the duffle bag in the big compartment under the bus and carry their backpacks onto it. Buffy leads Dawn to a seat in the middle of the bus and over the luggage compartment. Dawn keeps her CD player and a paperback about space pirates when she settles into her seat. Buffy keeps out a diary and a pen and stows their backpacks, coats, and Dawn's pillow overhead.

Buffy writes, Dawn reads, and the afternoon passes pleasantly enough. When the bus pulls into the terminal in Reno, Nevada, Dawn tucks the family photo from her mother's memento box into the book, using it as a bookmarker. They get all of their things together and stagger from the bus to the terminal, the dry desert heat pressing down on them like an oppressive hand.

An hour later, they are on another bus. Dawn reads and Buffy writes until Dawn gets hungry. She makes Buffy get her bookbag down from the overhead rack. Buffy looks surprised when Dawn produces a stack of slightly squashed sandwiches, a thermos of cocoa, and a bag of little marshmallows. Feeling smug, Dawn passes Buffy a sandwich. She peeks between the pieces of bread and grimaces.

"Ugh, are those green olives and potato chips?" Buffy asks. She sounds disgusted.

"That's the best kind of peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Dawn insists, swapping sandwiches with Buffy. "Here, try this one. It's plainer."

"Plain peanut butter and jelly," Buffy says, sounding relieved. "That red stuff _is_ jelly, right?"

"Raspberry," Dawn agrees and Buffy bites into a sandwich.

"Thanks Dawnie," Buffy says and Dawn preens a bit at having remembered something that Buffy forgot.

It gets darker, the overhead lights dim, and the bus gets colder. Buffy puts their things away and gets down their coats and Dawn's pillow. Dawn puts on her coat and curls up with her pillow against the window. The bus' jostling hurts her head and keeps her awake. Curling up against Buffy is better and it makes her arm and the side of her chest wonderfully warm but Dawn's legs are too cold for Dawn to be able to sleep.

"Here," Buffy says and peels off her coat. She drapes it over Dawn's lap. It is wonderfully warm from her body heat. "Go to sleep, Dawnie."

"But you'll be cold," Dawn protests even as she tucks her feet up onto her seat and under Buffy’s coat. She is finally warm enough to be comfortable.

"I'm fine," Buffy says. "I don't feel the cold the way that you do. Go to sleep, Dawnie."

"Okay," Dawn sighs. She closes her eyes. "But you have to take your coat back if you get cold."

"I will."

The bus is big and open and cold but Buffy smells like Buffy. Dawn sleeps very well.

Dawn wakes up, feeling warm, restless, and in desperate need of a bathroom. Climbing over Buffy is an exercise in bladder control. She drapes both coats over Buffy (who is cuddled up with Mr. Gordo) and hustles down the aisle. The three minute wait for the bathroom is one of the longest waits in Dawn's life.

The toilet is worse than Dawn could ever have imagined. For one, delirious moment after she shuts the door behind herself, Dawn is determined to hold it until they get to anywhere else. Then the bus goes over a bump and Dawn reevaluates that idea as being the terrible, deranged plan of a half-awake mind. She tries to touch nothing as she does her business, washes her hands, and escapes the biohazardous area masquerading as a bathroom.

"No more drinking on the bus," Dawn sternly informs Buffy as she crawls over her older sister. "Not even if I beg."

"Gotcha," Buffy mumbles as she turns toward Dawn. Without opening her eyes, Buffy somehow arranges the wonderfully warm coats over both of them. This forces Dawn to snuggle in close to Buffy but, since the arm rest between their seats is up and Buffy is like a small furnace, Dawn cheerfully makes the sacrifice.

They drowse together for awhile longer before Buffy decides to brave the bathroom. When she gets back, she looks as pretty and put together as ever. Dawn is more than a little bit jealous.

"Hey, let's play the alphabet game,” Buffy suggests as she reclaims her seat. “No license plates."

"Okay. No objects, only words."

"Done."

They play the alphabet game, which is really hard in what seem to be mountains devoid of many human settlements, and then a bunch of other driving games that even Dawn is too old to play. But the games are still fun and it seems like forever since Dawn has seen Buffy smile so much. It has been even longer than that since Dawn has had all of Buffy's attention all to herself. Dawn glories in it.

Dawn is grateful for her coat at the next transfer. Utah is colder than California, even in the summer, and the higher elevation makes Dawn tired. In the terminal, she and Buffy use the facilities and Buffy produces those free toothbrushes, floss reels, and toothpastes that they got from the dentist's office. On behalf of her teeth, Dawn is very grateful. Buffy also produces a hairbrush and make-up from her purse. When Buffy deems them both appropriately groomed, they go back out into the main area and Buffy buys them both muffins and milk from a vender.

It is the best blueberry muffin that Dawn has ever eaten. Afterwards, feeling full and happy, Dawn drowses against Buffy's shoulder until it is nearly time to board their bus. They use the bathroom again and then go about boarding the bus. Dawn is drowsing against Buffy when the bus leaves the terminal.

At one point, around mid-afternoon, Dawn wakes up to the sound of her stomach grumbling.

"Hold on," Buffy says and gives Dawn her diary and pen to hold. She fetches a pair of silver pop-tart packages and two bottles of water from her bookbag.

"You packed food too," Dawn says, feeling obscurely betrayed that she was not the only one who had thought of it.

"Yours was better," Buffy replies and gives Dawn one of the pop-tart packages.

Mollified, Dawn enjoys her pop-tarts and washes them down with a swig of water. Afterwards, she scolds Buffy for letting her drink _anything._

"Relax," Buffy says. "We'll be at the next transfer point in a few hours. I'm sure it'll have okay bathrooms."

"Relax! I can't relax!" Dawn snaps. She lowers her voice and hisses, "You-You probably have a super special cast-iron Slayer bladder or something. Tell the truth, you could hold it for _days_ , weeks even, if you wanted to, couldn't you?"

Buffy stares at her for a moment, wide-eyed and incredulous, and then howls with laughter. Buffy laughs so hard that she cries and Dawn's indignation fades. She smiles and watches her sister laugh and thinks that the last time Buffy laughed so hard was probably before Sunnydale and Merrick dying. Dawn is happy because Buffy is (finally) happy. Afterwards, they slump together, silent and content. Sometime, between one blink and the next, Dawn falls asleep.

When Buffy wakes Dawn at the next bus station, the sky is crimson and the world is still half dark. She is curled up beneath Buffy's coat again. And she _really_ has to pee. What follows is the fastest disembarking of their entire trip until then. They use the facilities, clean up, and then Dawn announces that she is _famished._

"I think I can afford a sandwich," Buffy says with a frown. "We could split it."

"I was offering to buy," Dawn quickly lies, flushing with embarrassment. She had not thought about it before but now she wonders where Buffy's money had been coming from, how much of it she had spent, and how much she had left.

Dawn buys four sandwiches and two juices at a kiosk in the terminal. The best things that can be said about them is that they are freshly made and filling. Buffy wolfs her three sandwiches down like she has been secretly starving. It makes Dawn feel bad.

They are still somewhere high and cold so Dawn puts her favorite pillow into Buffy's lap, stretches out on the bench, and drowses until Buffy shakes her shoulder and tells her that it's time to use the bathroom again. They do, Dawn buys two bottles of water and more sandwiches for the bus ride and Dawn groggily staggers onto the bus with Buffy. This time, they manage to snag the long back seat of the bus, near the toilet stall, and Dawn stretches out across three seats. She puts her pillow, and her head, in Buffy's lap and goes to sleep.

Dawn wakes sometime later to find herself covered up with Buffy's coat. Buffy is reading Dawn's paperback. Dawn stays where she is, watching Buffy read. Her sister's pale eyes dart back and forth across the lines of text and she chews her lower lip, worried about some plot development. It is at times like this that Dawn remembers that Buffy was never stupid, no matter what her report cards say. She just never tried as hard as she could have in school, first because it was uncool and later because she was busy being the Slayer.

"Do you like it?" Dawn croaks, her voice harsh from disuse.

Underneath her, Buffy startles. She had _really_ been into the story. Dawn makes a mental note to see if it is part of a series or if the author has other works.

"It's... okay," Buffy says cautiously.

"You like it," Dawn cheerfully accuses as she sits up.

"Yeah," Buffy says with a sheepish grin.

So Buffy reads and Dawn listens to music as she looks out the window because at some point the mountains were replaced by wide open plains that stretch as far as she can see. They eat their sandwiches, Dawn sips her water, and the time passes.

At the next bus terminal, Buffy says tightly, "Stay on the bus, Dawn."

They had been having short stops and layovers at various bus stations all along but this is the first time that either of them has gotten off of the bus for anything other than a transfer. Dawn watches as Buffy goes upfront, has a brief conversation with the driver, and clatters off the bus. She watches the run down little bus station anxiously until she sees Buffy coming back to the bus, with that wide, sharp grin that she only gets after slaying something and a streak of dirt on her cheek.

Buffy clambers back onto the bus.

"What was it?" Dawn demands, whispering because they are not alone.

"The usual," Buffy says carelessly and Dawn figures that there must have been vampires holed up somewhere in the bus station.

"You have dirt on your cheek," Dawn informs Buffy who makes a face and goes into the bus' toilet.

After that, Buffy gets off at more and more of the little stops to slay something. On the one hand, Dawn understands that Buffy cannot just leave vampires and demons to kill bus travelers. On the other hand, Dawn cannot help but worry that Buffy is going to get hurt or miss the bus. She has no idea what she would do if that happened. She worries about it so much that she loses two games of ABCs to Buffy.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asks.

Dawn shrugs and, even though she is tempted to lie, says, "What would I do if you missed the bus?"

"Stay on it until you got to the next transfer place then get off and wait for me there," Buffy says promptly, making Dawn wonder if she has thought about this and just not mentioned it.

_Maybe she thought that I'd already worked that out on my own?_

"Oh," says Dawn, her shoulders loosening. "Okay."

In Kansas City, they have an hour and a half layover so they both get off of the bus, stretch their legs, and Dawn buys them dinner, pizza and soda this time. Dawn eats two slices, Buffy eats four and they get the last two pieces boxed up.

"Hey Buffy?" Dawn asks when they are back on the bus. Although it is twilight outside, the inside of the bus is dark enough for Buffy's face to be mostly shadows and the illuminated curve of her cheek.

"Mmm?" Buffy hums, her face firmly turned toward the twilight outside.

_Can she feel anything outside, too far away to go slay and still make the bus?_ Dawn wonders, maybe a tiny bit anxious at the thought. _Does Buffy wish that she could go out there and find something that needs slaying? Would she do that if I wasn't here?_

"Thanks for taking me with you," Dawn finally says. She means it. "This is fun. I didn't really think that it would be, but it is."

Buffy turns away from the night and toward Dawn. The change in angle and the slanted light from the bus station makes most of Buffy's face visible to Dawn. Buffy is smiling at her. Dawn smiles back.

"I'm glad," Buffy says.

Because she likes having Buffy's attention and the atmosphere between them and because she really wants to know Dawn asks, "Where'd you get the money for our bus tickets?"

If either of them has inherited money and Buffy forgot to mention it, Dawn is going to be really cranky.

"It's from L.A.," Buffy says, her tone too careless. Buffy only ever sounds like that when something is important to her but she will never, ever admit it. "I worked in a greasy spoon while I was there."

_Am I supposed to ask or not ask?_ Dawn wonders. _Fifty-fifty shot._

"What was it like?" Dawn asks, before the moment escapes or is broken. Sometimes, with Buffy, there was only one chance.

The corners of Buffy's mouth relax and quirk up. The look Buffy darts Dawn's way is wary but somehow more relaxed. Dawn warms with the knowledge that she chose correctly.

In low tones, Buffy tells Dawn about what it was like to live by herself in L.A. and about the greasy spoon and spending her days off on the boardwalk or at the beach. When Buffy forgets to be the cool valley girl or the Slayer in charge and is just Buffy, she has a way with words. Her stories are about boring, every day things but Buffy makes them sound exciting or ridiculous or adventurous. Parts of it sound hard and hungry and Dawn knows that Buffy is skipping the Slayerly parts because they are on a bus with a bunch of other people but, "It sounds nice."

"It does?" Buffy asks, sounding surprised.

"I'd like to go to the boardwalk and the beach with you," Dawn says. "That part sounds fun. But, uh, not the rest of it, really."

Buffy huffs a laugh. "Maybe we'll go together some day."

"Another road trip!" Dawn says, genuinely excited.

_Maybe I can get two road trips in before Janice even gets one?_ Dawn thinks gleefully.

_"Maybe,"_ Buffy stresses. "We'll have to see how this thing with Uncle Phil works out."

"It'll work out," Dawn says confidently, even though she knows no such thing. "Uncle Phil loves you."

"You don't know that, Dawnie."

"Well, he's not remembering the big days for my sake," Dawn says. "I bet he doesn't even know that I exist."

"He sends you things too."

"Probably because he's sending you things," Dawn sniffs, enjoying this game. "I'm probably just a lonely afterthought."

Buffy snorts. "Yeah, right."

"Outside of birthdays and holidays, he probably forgets that I even exist the rest of the year."

"Like anyone could forget about you," Buffy says, rolling her eyes.

Dawn grins, liking that.

Since it is nighttime and Dawn is merely human, Dawn lays down again and Buffy reopens the paperback. Dawn falls asleep to the sound of Buffy turning pages, reading by the fading light of the day.

Buffy wakes Dawn up in St. Louis.

"What?" Dawn demands shortly.

"We have a two and a half hour layover here," Buffy says. "Come stretch your legs and use the relatively less gross bathroom."

"Okay."

About an hour into their layover, Buffy kills two blue tentacle things behind the building. Dawn watches her sister fight and thinks that, as good as Buffy was at cheerleading and gymnastics and ice skating, she is better at this. Buffy fighting is one of the most beautiful things that Dawn has ever seen, despite the blood and guts and gore. Afterwards, Buffy cleans up the mess with the travel-size can of extra hold hair spray and the lighter. Until then, Dawn had thought that Buffy kept them in her purse because old cheerleading habits died hard deaths.

Afterwards, Buffy finishes off their leftover pizza and drinks all their leftover drinks. Buffy calls Uncle Phil again and Dawn calls their mother but neither adult answers their telephone. When they get back on the bus, Buffy is carrying an unopened bottle of red sports drink and a handful of vending machine goodies. Dawn has a new paperback by the same author as the other one. Buffy snags Dawn's pillow (and mocks Dawn's flailing fury) and props herself against the side of the bus. Dawn reclaims Buffy's lap, using her own coat for a pillow and Buffy's for a blanket. The bus' rocking soon lulls her to sleep.

When Dawn wakes early the next morning, Buffy is still asleep. Her face is relaxed and her skin is golden against dawn's scarlet light. Staying where she is, Dawn fishes out her new book and reads for awhile before deciding that, despite the visceral horror of it, a trip to the bathroom is unavoidable. She covers Buffy up with the coats and grimly goes to do her business.

Buffy wakes up around midmorning, after the driver has announced that they are passing through West Virginia, and Dawn says, "Our next stop is Pittsburgh in about an hour and a half."

"Nearly there," Buffy rasps and Dawn passes her the red sports' drink and the remnants of the vending machine snacks. Buffy wolfs them down and gets out the other paperback and they read in relative silence. It's really, really nice.

In Pittsburgh, they disembark long enough to use the bathrooms, stretch, and eat Philadelphia cheese steak sandwiches, even though they are in the wrong city. And then, a mere four hours later, they are in New York City.

"We're finally here!" Dawn enthuses, admiring the sleek lines and old marble of the station. "Buffy! We're here!"

Buffy grins and says, "Yeah. If I never see the inside of a bus again, it'll be too soon." 

They are both too broke to take a taxi so they find the nearest subway entrance and study the maps until they have an idea of which trains they need to take to get near Uncle Phil's house. Buffy pays their entrance fees to the metro and they are off again!

They both stand in the subway car, although Buffy makes Dawn hold the handrail, which is nice after sitting on the buses for so long. They make four separate transfers and walk eight blocks before they find themselves walking down a block of brownstone townhouses. Dawn spends the entire eight blocks telling Buffy about the completely awesome shower that she is going to take at Uncle Phil's house and only stops telling her about it when they are actually standing in front of Uncle Phil's house.

"It's pretty nice," Dawn says, eying the well-kept brownstone house that looks exactly like all of its neighbors, save for the large tree in its front lawn. While some of the other houses have potted plants on their steps, Uncle Phil's house has no cheery flowers on its steps and its mat does not say 'Welcome.' All of the house's windows are dark and the curtains are drawn. Dawn hopes that those are not bad signs. "I bet he has room for us."

"Maybe," Buffy bites out. She is holding Dawn's hand very tightly. "Hopefully."

They knock and ring the doorbell but no one answers.

"Maybe he's still at work?" Dawn says uneasily.

"Maybe he's away," Buffy replies while scanning the steps, tiny front lawn, and the doorway for... something. Her shoulders shift in a shrug. "Stay here and keep knocking. I'll be right back."

A long time later, when Dawn has given up knocking and is sitting on the first step, the front door swings open. Dawn scrambles to her feet and turns around to find Buffy standing in the doorway, backlit by a golden light and frowning.

"This house is very, very weird," Buffy says as she stacks her purse, Dawn's pillow, and their assorted bags onto her weapons' chest. "But he definitely has room for us."

Dawn follows her sister into the house, shutting and locking the front door behind them.

Off of the entrance way is a living and dining room that looks like it had been popped out of a magazine. Buffy leads Dawn around the dining room table and into an equally pristine kitchen.

"That leads to the garage," Buffy says with a nod at the door across from them. Across from the kitchen sink, Buffy veers to the left and starts up the stairs. Dawn follows her.

"There's a basement below the living room but it's completely empty. So is this next floor, except for the curtains, which are ugly by the way," Buffy says. "The floor above this next one has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. One of the bedrooms looks like it's some sort of panic room, another is definitely Uncle Phil's bedroom, and one is completely devoted to Uncle Phil's Captain America collection."

Dawn wrinkles her nose. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Buffy says. She tosses a quick, fond smile over her shoulder to Dawn. "When it comes to Captain America, Uncle Phil could out-geek _Xander."_

Dawn laughs. "Scary! Maybe the empty rooms are waiting to be filled up with Captain America stuff?"

"That would be hilarious!" Buffy chortles. "I'd love that! Above Uncle Phil's level is the roof. We, uh, need to scrape together some money to fix the rooftop door, by the way. I put a bookcase in front of it for the time being."

"A bookcase?" Dawn asks as Buffy veered to the left. Dawn follows her and watches as Buffy puts her weapons chest, purse, backpack, and duffle bag into the biggest bedroom that Dawn has ever seen. It has _two_ closets! "Hey! You don't get to have the best bedroom!"

"Yours is big too," Buffy says. "Your closet is so big, it's like having two bedrooms."

"Really?" asks Dawn, half-persuaded despite herself.

"Mhmmm," Buffy says as she leads Dawn across the hallway. "It's perfect for sleeping in."

"Are yours big enough to sleep in?" Dawn asks, feeling half worried and half competitive.

"The one definitely isn’t," Buffy says as they step into Dawn's room. “And you might have to move my shoes in the other.”

"That's okay then," Dawn decides as she looks around her new bedroom, which is bigger than their mom's and has a huge window overlooking the backyard, and decides that she likes it. When Buffy sneaks out, and sooner or later she will, Dawn will be able to see her go and come back. When Dawn sees the inside of her walk in closet, it is love at first sight.

"This'll do," Dawn says and tries to sound grudging about it. Mostly, she sounds happy and awe-struck, even to herself. Buffy smirks.

"Don't get too attached," Buffy warns. "Uncle Phil still hasn't promised to let us stay with him."

"He will," Dawn says confidently, thinking of that old photograph. She knows that it is safely tucked away in Buffy’s current diary. "He loves you."

Buffy's shoulders twitch and her mouth tightens and Dawn wonders if she said anything wrong. Buffy waves her off with a laugh and a lie about a really itchy itch. Dawn, who is a much better liar than Buffy will ever be even though she is only eleven, pretends to go along with it.

"I'm going to go look at his Captain America stuff," Dawn announces and then endures Buffy's warning not to bend any pages or break any dolls.

"I know how to play gently," Dawn says scornfully and stomps up the stairs to explore Uncle Phil's rooms.

One door has a giant keypad on it and, when Dawn knocks on it, does not feel like wood. It has no doorknob. The room next to it has shelves on two walls and a big barren place on the third where Buffy has removed the bookcase. All of the shelf space is filled with bright memorabilia that Dawn itches to get into. But she makes herself go across the hall and at least glance into Uncle Phil's room, which turns out to be every bit as boring as the rooms on the ground floor were.

Dawn goes back to Captain America Room and entertains herself playing Captain versus mirror-verse Captain until Buffy calls her down to dinner, which is soup, macaroni and cheese, and spinach with a glass of water.

"He's definitely gone," Buffy says. "There's nothing perishable in the refrigerator and everything in the pantry is canned or boxed. I know that you like to snoop. If you see a calendar with his travel schedule anywhere, let me know."

"Will do," Dawn says cheerfully. People almost never give her permission to do the things that she likes best. If Buffy sees how helpful it is, maybe she will stop freaking out every time she catches Dawn going through her things.

Dawn is so excited at the idea of getting started in her snooping that she and Buffy have a little fight over whether or not she has to help with the dishes. In the end Buffy wins, mostly because she is older and firmer and _Buffy,_ and Dawn has to wait until everything is cleaned up to get down to business. She starts in the living room.

"Dawnie, I'm going out for a little while," says Buffy about five minutes later, while Dawn is marveling over the complete lack of crumbs, pens, and loose change in the couch. Dawn glances at the curtains and knows from the absence of light creeping in around them that it is the Slayer's time. "The patio, garage, and basement doors are all locked. And the door to the roof is blocked off. Don't do anything that you wouldn't do in our house. Actually, behave better than you would at our house. And remember to lock the front door after me. And –"

"Buffy, I can do this," Dawn interrupts, irritated at Buffy for thinking that she was still a baby after their whole cross country road trip. "I've been home practically alone since the Acathla-thing. I'm not going to mess this up."

"Okay, okay," Buffy finally says, her expression a strange mixture of irritation and guilt. "Just be careful."

"Fine. I will be."

"Fine."

When Buffy leaves, Dawn makes sure to lock the door after her. And then, feeling strangely anxious, Dawn checks that all of the windows are locked, even the ones on the third floor. Satisfied, Dawn grabs a set of pajamas from her suitcase and goes to inspect the bathrooms. The bathroom on hers and Buffy’s floor is completely empty. Only the bathrooms on Uncle Phil's floor have toilet paper and, of the two of them, only one of them has tiny little travel soaps and hair products and clean towels.

Dawn takes advantage of Buffy's absence to nab the first shower. It is long, hot and _wonderful._ It is also her first shower since leaving home with Buffy. Living on a series of buses has taught Dawn to appreciate the little things.

After she is clean and ready for bed, Dawn pads back down to the living room to resume her investigation. Dawn knows from experience that, as tempting as it is to go out of order, she misses things when she does that.

Buffy comes home much earlier than usual. She comes home so early that she actually knocks on the front door and waits for Dawn to let her in. Even better, Buffy is completely blood and goo free. Dawn is still reserving judgment on the newspaper that she has brought back with her.

Buffy arches an eyebrow at Dawn's pajamas and wet hair.

"He doesn't own a blow dryer," Dawn says defensively and Buffy smirks.

"You'd better have left some of that hot water for me!"

"Ha! You snooze, you lose!" crows Dawn, even though she is nearly positive that she did not use up all of the hot water. She had made a really good try at it, though. And then, because someone should be Buffy's Watcher and it looks like that someone is going to have to be her, not that Buffy will ever know it, Dawn asks, "So? What's it like?"

"Okay," Buffy says, which is not any help _at all._ She shrugs. "Nice. Rich neighborhood. No gangs on PCP here. Although I think there's a nest in one of the houses down the block - not the way we came, but the other way - so stay away from there until I can find their sewer access and clean them out."

"Don't worry, I will," Dawn promises. She even means it too. "You have to use the bathroom off of Uncle Phil's room. It's the only one with stuff in it."

Buffy nods and disappears upstairs. When she is done inspecting the living room, Dawn follows her. Buffy is still in the shower and Uncle Phil's bed is the only one in the entire house but, even knowing that there is no one to stop her, Dawn is momentarily cowed by the idea of being caught in a stranger's bed. On the other hand, this stranger's bed is the first one that Dawn has seen since Sunnydale.

"I _so_ hope that this bed is just right," Dawn mumbles as she crawls into her uncle's bed. It is like sprawling over a cloud. Dawn moans and stretches, trying to cover as much of that bed with her person as possible. It is _that_ good.

When Buffy emerges from the bathroom on a cloud of manly scents, Dawn is already half asleep in their uncle's bed.

"Dawn!"

"It's like lying on a cloud," Dawn tells Buffy. "If he throws us out, we're taking his bed with us."

"Well, we've eaten his food and used his shower," Buffy says, giving in far too quickly in Dawn's opinion. Buffy must really want to experience the cloud-bed, too. "We might as well go for the whole Goldilocks experience here. Let me just get one of my swords."

If the story had been _Buffy and the Three Bears,_ Dawn knows that the story would have ended very differently, regardless of who was had broken into who's house. Dawn takes great comfort in that. She is in the middle of mentally composing her first entry in her mental Watcher's Diary when she falls asleep.

Dawn never sees Buffy come back and she certainly never notices her getting into the bed but Buffy is definitely there when Dawn wakes up in the morning. She uses the bathroom (and loves her Uncle Phil just a little bit for having such a clean one) and then pads down three flights of stairs to continue her inspection of their Uncle Phil's house.

Since she finished with the living room the night before, Dawn moves on to the kitchen. She is halfway through the kitchen and in the middle of admiring their uncle's pantry of non-perishables, which is neatly organized down to the number and type of staples and instant foods, when Buffy comes downstairs. She is dressed nicely with her hair pinned up and her makeup firmly in place. While Buffy cooks breakfast, Dawn continues to carefully inspect every pot, pan, drawer, cupboard, nook, and cranny that she comes across.

"I looked at the classifieds," Buffy says as she mixes oatmeal flakes into hot water. "And I found a couple of jobs that I could do. Some of them are even near here. I thought I'd go look into them today. And then on Monday, we can try and register for school around here."

"That sounds good," Dawn says, trying to sound cheerful. She never really thought about what they would do once they got to New York City or if Uncle Phil rejected them but Buffy obviously has. "Where are we going?"

"It'll be easier to get hired if I'm on my own," Buffy says apologetically. "Will you be okay being here by yourself for a few hours?"

"Yes," Dawn says firmly. "I did it last night, didn't I?"

Buffy smiles ever so faintly but says, "Yes. You did very well."

Dawn preens a bit and gets Buffy to say it three more times before she utterly refuses to compliment Dawn even one more time.

They only have brown sugar and jam, which will have to be refrigerated after it is opened, to season their oatmeal with but Buffy seems happy enough. Dawn chokes down the boring breakfast and vows to buy better oatmeal condiments when they have money again.

Buffy makes Dawn another box of macaroni and cheese and leaves it in the refrigerator. Dawn will microwave a bowl of it when she gets hungry. She also has a whole long list of rules and she makes Dawn promise _twice_ to lock the door after her before she leaves.

When Buffy is gone, Dawn snoops through the kitchen and then, declaring that place done, moves on to inspecting the television's offerings.

She watches a few cartoons and then goes looking for something to read. Settling on her half-finished paperback and a handful of Captain America comics, Dawn heads back downstairs again. Even if the couch is stiff with newness, it is still really, really comfortable.

Eventually, Dawn eats some of the macaroni and cheese and then, for lack of something better to do, calls her mother. Twice.

Her mother answers on the last ring of the second call, sounding breathless. "Hello?"

"Mom?" Dawn says, happiness and love welling up in her. "How are you?"

Her mother hesitates a beat and then says, "Better. How's your Uncle Phil?"

"Good," Dawn lies and then tells the truth. "He's at work right now."

Her mother laughs. It is sharp and bitter and very fond. "That sounds like your uncle. Tell him that I'm grateful. I just – I need a break. And that I'll sign the paperwork for your school and whatever else."

"Buffy's too?"

There is a very brief hesitation on her mother's part and then she says, "Buffy's too."

They talk about other things for awhile, the gallery and Aunt Darleen who was sad that Dawn was visiting Uncle Phil instead of her and which of their friends had called to speak with Dawn or Buffy, before Dawn’s mother accuses her of running up Uncle Phil's telephone bill and they say their goodbyes.

When Buffy gets home, Dawn tells her about the phone call. It seems to make her sister happier so Dawn considers that good too.

Buffy leaves again the next day in her quest for work and Dawn stays home to entertain herself. She discovers in quick succession that the basement, garage, and every room on the floor that she and Buffy share are all empty and ends up snooping through the Captain America room again, doing it properly this time.

She gets distracted by the next issue of the story arc that she had been reading yesterday and ends up spending the morning reading about Captain America's exciting adventures. Captain America is no Slayer but he is also no slouch in the being a hero department.

It turns out that school starts a bit later where they are so, after Buffy and their mom get them both enrolled in the local schools, Dawn spends her mornings at home and Buffy spends them looking for gainful employment. In the afternoon, Buffy takes Dawn out to do free things like play in a nearby playground or attend a concert in the park. And at night, the Slayer prowls the streets.

The morning that Buffy comes home successful and employed, they celebrate with pizza, hot chocolate with little marshmallows, and a Captain America marathon.

School starts and they settle into a new routine.

The high school starts earlier than the middle school so Buffy gets Dawn up and ready but has to trust her to get on the bus by herself, which Dawn does. Buffy's school lets out earlier than Dawn's too but Buffy has work immediately after school so Dawn is alone in the house until the early evening. She plays in the street with the other kids, takes a stab at her homework, reads her uncle's Captain America comics, maybe watches television and sometimes tries to make dinner for Buffy, usually cereal or sandwiches.

Buffy works twenty hours a week at a fast food restaurant and comes home smelling like burnt grease. She buys things like soaps, food items and occasionally takeout but insists on saving the rest of their money. When Buffy gets home from work she eats, does her homework, puts Dawn to bed, and goes out to patrol. Dawn is always asleep before Buffy comes back and falls into bed with her.

Dawn sometimes wonders, in her secret mental journal, if Slayers need less sleep than regular humans or if that is all Buffy or if Buffy is just operating like apocalypse season has moved to September because their situation is that delicate. Dawn prefers to think of it as a Slayer thing.

On the weekends, Buffy sometimes pulls a couple of shifts but usually she just gets ahead on her homework, catches up on her sleep, and spends from dawn to dusk making the creatures of the night tremble at the passing of her shadow.

Sometimes, Buffy takes Dawn out to things like free music in the park or the circus or to test out the toys and clothes that they never intend to buy. But when Buffy is busy, Dawn tries to entertain herself, which usually means playing outside with the other kids (but only the ones within screaming distance and only during the day), more reading, playing with Buffy's make-ups and jewelry, and trying to read Buffy's diary. Sometimes, as a special treat to herself, Dawn goes through Buffy and Uncle Phil’s things.

Buffy mostly brought necessities and weapons with her but, tucked between pairs of jeans, Dawn finds the bright, messy drawings from the children's ward of the hospital, that card from the coma boy, and a bunch of other little knick knacks from people that Buffy has saved over the years. She has a bronzed stake, which is shaped like a lightning bolt, a leather-bound book of Emily Dickenson's poetry from a boy named Owen, a battered old Captain America doll, and a pocket watch. Dawn puts it all back, exactly as she found it, and wishes that Buffy's uncle was even half as interesting as Buffy.

There is absolutely nothing interesting in Uncle Phil's bedroom, save for the fact that his closet is almost entirely filled with black suits and nearly as awesome as hers.

In the Captain America collection, Dawn discovers a Captain America notebook that looks exactly like the one that Janice used as a Social Studies notebook last year. Dawn appropriates it.

Her secret mental notebook becomes a thing of pages and lines and carefully printed words because there is no room to mess up. Getting another notebook would mean asking Buffy for money and that would mean admitting to having a diary too. Dawn likes snooping but she dislikes the idea of Buffy snooping on _her._

Sometimes, she spends hours trying number combinations on the panic room's door. Dawn starts with 000000 then tries 000001, 000002, 000003 and so forth. The stuff in the panic room will probably be awesome. Dawn will have new things to snoop through. And Buffy will be so impressed when she gets in! Imagining Buffy's impressed face gets Dawn from all the way to 100000. Spiting her unknown Uncle Phil gets Dawn all the way to 200000. After that, a combination of curiosity, boredom, and sheer stubbornness makes her keep trying in fits and starts.

Occasionally, Dawn goes down and sits on the basement's steps to watch Buffy practice.

At some point, Buffy must have decided that the basement would be an ideal workout room, despite being completely empty and having poured concrete for a floor. As far as Dawn can tell, the only thing that the room has going for it is its sheer size. It is the same size as every other floor of the house but with no walls or individual rooms to get in Buffy’s way.

Dawn sits still and silent and watches as Buffy flips, kicks, and maims imaginary opponents with her medieval weapons. But Dawn's favorite times are when Buffy moves slowly and carefully through stances and counters, every movement crisp and precise and thoughtful. When Buffy moves like that, Dawn thinks that fighting is art but sped up and made messy.

Sometimes, when Buffy is away being a fast food employee or slinging burgers, Dawn goes down to the basement and tries to imitate her sister. She usually ends up with skinned hands or knees for her efforts.

In October, two enormous pumpkins appear on the counter. When she sees them, Dawn’s squeals hit decibels that only dogs can hear.

Firmly planting her hands over her ears, Buffy grins and says, “We need to get costumes.”

“We’re going trick or treating?” Dawn shrieks, excited despite Sunnydale’s usual Halloween horrors. Besides, they live in New York now.

“Sure, it’s the quietest night of the demonic calendar and the one night a year when you can go as you aren’t. No way are we missing that.”

They carve the pumpkins into jack o’ lanterns that morning, Buffy doing the knife work and Dawn doing the messy stuff, and after that Dawn helps Buffy keep an eye out for cheap costume shops. She is nearly beside herself with excitement when Buffy actually takes her costume shopping.

“How about this one?” Dawn asks, suppressing a grin when Buffy grimaces. To stick it to her, Dawn makes a big show out of admiring an Iron Man costume.

“Pffft, that guy,” Buffy grouses. “What a total showoff!”

Dawn giggles, letting go of the Iron Man costume in favor of riffling through the other costume packages. She flipped past a Batman suit, a Spiderman suit, and a Batgirl uniform. The various princess costumes did not even bear looking at, not after Buffy’s Halloween as an eighteenth century noblewoman. Now the rule was to dress as something that you did not mind being turned into for a night.

“Lots of people work hard every day to make the world better and none of them jet off with a Nobel Peace Prize. And why does everyone cheering him on for stealing billions of dollars in weaponry but if I steal a tube of lipstick, it’s straight to mall jail for me?”

“Could I be this?” Dawn asks, admiring a colorful gypsy costume.

“Maybe,” Buffy replies after checking the price tag. “But don’t you want to look at some of the other costumes before you decide?”

They go through all of the costumes in the shop before Buffy decides on a pretty Tardis dress and Dawn returns to her first love: the gypsy dress.

Two days before the holiday, Buffy picks up some treats to leave in a bowl on the front step while they are out and about on Halloween.

Trick or treating that year is fun, no one turns into anything, and Buffy even gets to slay a couple of hungry vamps who tried to snack on the wrong gypsy fortune teller. Best of all, they both make enormous candy hauls. It is literally the best Halloween that Dawn has had since Buffy got called as the Slayer.

One Saturday in November, while Buffy is away slinging hamburgers, Dawn spends the day reading comics in the Captain America room. Dawn is giggling over a plot twist when she rolls over, the better to lie on her back and continue reading, when she glimpses something large and dark from the corner of her eye.

Dawn drops the comic book and scrambles to her feet.

The man standing in the open doorway is the same man from that old picture of Buffy. He is still thin but taller and older with broader shoulders and much shorter hair. He might be balding.

Uncle Phil stands there and stares at Dawn, his expression friendly but terribly blank.

_Maybe Buffy gets her creepy ninja skills honestly, not from being The Slayer,_ Dawn thinks, staring right back at him. It is a scary thought.

The silence stretches between them, taut and uncomfortable, until Dawn cracks and says, "Hi, Uncle Phil?"

Dawn waves at him, more from nervousness than any calculated desire to look cute. She has the awful feeling that she has been cornered by a vampire with no Slayer-sister around to rescue her. Her only hope is to stall until Buffy comes home and saves her.

One of her uncle's eyebrows arches at her. Buffy does that sometimes and now Dawn has a fairly good idea of where she learned it. Dawn, who can only arch both of her eyebrows together or not at all, is outraged. It lends her courage.

"I'm Buffy's little sister, Dawn." And oh, how she _hates_ identifying herself that way. Dawn swallows her hatred and soldiers on. "We, uh, came to visit you?"

There is another excruciating beat of silence before he says, "You and Buffy ran away from home and moved into my unguarded house."

His tone is calm, even gentle, but Dawn has lived in Sunnydale. She knows an apex predator when he's got her cornered.

Dawn squirms and, unable to think of anything else to say under the weight of his regard, says, "Yeah. Dad's disappeared, Mom's, uh, sick again, and Buffy is still super special. If that's a problem by the way, we can leave. And I'll tell Buffy it's because you hate kids, not super special people."

Dawn offers that last thing not because she cares about this stranger but because she remembers how Buffy had smiled when she told Dawn about the Captain America room. Buffy still loves this uncle. And Dawn loves her enough not to let Buffy be hurt, even if they really do have nowhere else to go.

"Special," he says and, even though it is a statement rather than a question, Dawn nods. "How is Buffy special?"

Dawn shifts her weight, crosses her arms over her chest, and glares because _everyone_ in the family knows that Buffy is not like the rest of them. Or, at least, they all know what Mom and Dad said when they sent Buffy away. Dad disappeared after that and, the morning that the divorce papers arrived, Mom took Dawn to Aunt Darleen's house. She cried into the telephone for _hours_ at a time to whichever friend or relative would listen, mostly about the divorce but sometimes about Buffy. There is absolutely _no way_ that this man, Buffy's uncle, knows nothing about Buffy's specialness.

In response, the man arches his eyebrows at Dawn who tries to glare harder.

"Joyce – your mother – is less than forthcoming during her phone calls," he says. "When we speak, your sister is usually not a topic of conversation. And when she is, your mother’s words are difficult to parse."

It takes Dawn awhile to figure out what he is trying to say to her. And, even when she thinks that she might have the gist of what he said, Dawn is still uncertain.

"Which parts do you need clarified – further explained?" he asks.

So Dawn asks, he defines and eventually Dawn has a very good handle on what he said.

"Am I?" Dawn asks, uncertain if she wants to be something her mom talks about to Buffy's uncle.

"Are you what?"

"Am I a topic when you talk to my mom?"

"Frequently."

Dawn feels a flare of pleasure in that. Guilt follows swiftly on its heels. Dawn tries to squash both the pleasure and the guilt, fails, and settles on asking, "But you always remember Buffy's birthday."

"It isn't hard."

Dawn studies the man who quietly watches her in return, his expression placid. She decides that he means it.

"Buffy is –"

Dawn means to say, _'a mutant'_ because that would surely, surely be more acceptable than saying _'The Slayer, humanity's mystically chosen defender and champion'_. Saying that second thing had gotten Buffy locked up, after all. But under Uncle Phil’s steady regard the lie evaporates in Dawn's mouth, leaving her silent.

"Is?" presses Uncle Phil.

"A hero," Dawn decides because that is both true and not yet proven to get people locked away in mental institutions. "A superhero, even. And if you ever tell her that I said that, I will kick you and call you a liar."

Her Uncle Phil's mouth twitches and he nods. "Understood."

Dawn relaxes a little, smiles, and says, "She's always helping people who need it, even if it puts her out or gets her in trouble. No one talks about it but everyone in Sunnydale knows that if you're in trouble, Buffy'll help you. You just have to ask. Or, you know, look like you're in trouble somewhere where she can see it. Buffy's not like you or me but it's the good kind of not like us, not the bad kind."

"Super special," he deadpans but Dawn nods vigorously.

"Super special!" she repeats and decides that from this moment forward, the word 'special' will mean 'The Slayer'. "When our parents first found out that Buffy was special and helping people, they sent her away until Buffy promised not to be special anymore. Except that was a lie and Buffy kept helping people, just secretly. And then some awful stuff happened and Buffy had to be special in front of Mom and Mom told Buffy that if she was special anymore, she should just not come home ever again."

"So she took you and left."

"Well... She left me behind the first time but when she came back to check on me, Mom had started, um –"

Dawn flounders because while she _knows_ what Mom was, saying it to this empty stranger is impossible.

Eventually, Uncle Phil's lips thin and he says, "I know about your mother."

Relieved, Dawn nods and says, "So, Buffy took me with her. And for the record, you were my plan. Buffy was just going to stay in Sunnydale and be miserable so that I wouldn't get eaten."

"Eaten?"

"That's what happened to Buffy's first principal at Sunnydale High," Dawn informs him. "A group of high school students ate him and the school's mascot. And Miss French tried to eat Xander. So did our foreign exchange student. And, now that I'm telling you this, it seems to me that cannibalism is a total _thing_ in Sunnydale. Not that Buffy or me have ever eaten anyone. Because we haven't. It sounds gross."

Uncle Phil cocks his head to the side and studies her. Dawn waits. Since she is bad at it, she also fidgets and makes a list of things that she would like to ask him, starting with Embarrassing Buffy Stories and including a few questions about why he stopped coming around.

"What happened to my bookcase?" he asks, surprising Dawn, and nods at the bare space where the bookcase was meant to be. When she had inspected it, Dawn had been deeply disappointed by its books. They were all about Captain America or that time period in world history.

"Um, Buffy moved it. She put it in front of the door to the roof because that door was, uh, broken."

Uncle Phil's look is very flat. It squashes the air out of Dawn.

"Broken, how?"

"I don't know, exactly," Dawn says, which is the literal truth, although she could probably make an educated guess. She _has_ known Buffy for her whole life, after all. "I wasn't there."

Her uncle inclines his head. He continues to stare.

Dawn resumes fidgeting.

"Where's your sister?"

"She’s at work. But she should be home soon!" Dawn says and then sends up a quick prayer that Buffy comes home right _now._ She does not. Dawn decides that she lives in a cruel universe.

Uncle Phil nods, his eyes going to the box of comic books that Dawn has dragged out of the closet. The ones that she read today are scattered around it, most still without their wrappers. His lips thin again.

"Do you like Captain America?" he asks, instead of yelling the way that Buffy would.

Dawn finds that she would prefer the yelling. At least she always knew where she stood when Buffy yelled at her.

"Yes," Dawn says. She shrugs. "He reminds me of Buffy, but with a nicer temper. And he's better at sharing. You can tell Buffy that, by the way."

Uncle Phil huffs, either amused or irritated by her opinion, and asks, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes!" Dawn practically shouts, relieved beyond measure that the interrogation is over and that she seems to have passed.

They quickly (but carefully!) clean up Dawn’s mess in the Captain America room, Uncle Phil’s fingers lingering on each comic in turn as they gently re-bag them. Then Dawn leads their uncle downstairs and into the kitchen where Uncle Phil retrieves a slab of _bacon_ from the refrigerator and begins frying it up.

The scent of it is enough to make Dawn drool. It’s just been so long since she or Buffy had bacon.

There are other new groceries in the refrigerator and Dawn’s fingers itch with the desire to go through it and see what else he brought home with him.

“Dawn, would you mind washing the lettuce and tomatoes for our BLTs?” he asks, granting Dawn’s wish.

“Sure thing!” Dawn yelps and springs into action, her snooping cunningly disguised as helping.

By the time they finish putting the sandwiches together, Uncle Phil has lured Dawn into another conversation. Dawn is just telling their uncle about her plot to get taller than Buffy when Buffy comes home.

“Hey Buffy! Look what I found!” Dawn chirps, feeling quite pleased with herself when Buffy’s eyes land on their uncle. She looks stunned for a moment and then ridiculously happy. When Uncle Phil arches his eyebrows at Dawn, she hastily amends her previous statement with, “Look what found me!”

“Hi, Uncle Phil,” Buffy says, suddenly and unaccountably shy judging by the way that hunches her shoulders and she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Surprise?”

Uncle Phil smiles at Buffy that same half-smile from the photographs and apparently that is all that Buffy needs to rush at him in a not-so-subtle burst of Slayer speed to hug him. He grunts, his hands gripping at Buffy’s shoulders in silent protest.

“Sorry,” Buffy mumbles, carefully relaxing her grip on him. Dawn knows when Buffy’s hug is loose enough to be comfortable for normal humans because that is when Uncle Phil hugs her back.

“It’s okay,” he replies, his arms going around Buffy in a hug that, while obviously nowhere near as tight, seems just as heartfelt. “We made you lunch.”

“Dawn helped?” Buffy asks warily as she pulled back from the hug.

“Yes!” Dawn huffs, feeling insulted. “And no, I didn’t put any of the good stuff in yours.”

Looking relieved, Buffy grins. “Thanks. I’ll just get cleaned up then. I’ll be right back.”

But she lingers so Dawn says, “Don’t worry. I won’t let him escape.”

Laughing, Buffy hugs Uncle Phil again, hugs Dawn a little too tightly, like always, and clatters upstairs in another blatant use of Slayer speed. Dawn feels quite proud of herself for implying that Buffy is a mutant because there is no way that anyone could have missed all of that weirdness.

“Assuming that I wanted to leave, how’re you planning to restrain me?” asks Uncle Phil, sounding genuinely curious.

“I know where you keep your Captain America collection,” Dawn deadpans “and I’m not afraid to use it against you.”

And, even though she is joking with him right then, Dawn is totally not joking.

Dawn is the sister who holds grudges. She is still holding a grudge against Mary Anne Campbell for popping her Skipper’s head off and then losing it in the first grade. If Uncle Phil breaks Buffy’s heart, Dawn is never going to forgive him. And if that happens, Captain America is going to bear the brunt of her disappointment.

Uncle Phil smiles his strange little half smile again.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


End file.
